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You hadn't quite been able to wrap your head around how you'd ended up there, on the floor in the throne room of Lothric castle, with a ginormous, sleeping knight in your lap, but you hadn't complained and neither had you dared to because the alternative was dying painfully. You had been lying there for a while now, with your hand stroking the prince's hair as he had "instructed" you, and with both your legs, spread to make room for the prince's upper body, growing numb. It also hadn't helped that the prince's head, which was both heavy and big, was lying heavily on your stomach and consequently putting pressure on your bladder. 

You had been quietly busying yourself with thoughts on how to get out of this situation without being cut in half with a scorching sword when the prince had suddenly shifted and put even more pressure on your poor bladder. You felt the fluid gathering down in your groin, pressing on your hole and begging to be let out. Tears quickly sprung up in your eyes as the pain increased, but you weren't so crazy as to purposefully soil yourself when there was someone lying on top of you. Unfortunately, that was not to last.

In the past, you had never had the common decency to wait and find a suitable place to relieve yourself, and as so had never grown accustomed to holding it in for longer than a few seconds, nevermind several minutes. And as said minutes trickled by, so did the fluid you were so desperately holding in. Occasional small squirts of piss forced their way out of your slit, but that wasn't the only thing trickling out of your body. Your will to hold it in wilted the wetter your underclothes grew, and by this point, the only thing holding you back from letting it out was the impending shame and subsequent fear you would feel after urinating on a goddamn royal. 

Speaking of which, said royal seemed not to have detected any of your distress and was still occasionally shifting around, the shoulder piece of his armor digging into your legs and grazing your groin, which did absolutely nothing to help the situation. Through your pain, you were silently begging him to stop it for his own good.

Suddenly, he decided to shift himself higher up, which resulted in his shoulder pressing right between your legs. Hard. Now you were actually ready to beg him to get off you, and if you had just been slightly more self-destructive then maybe you would've done so. Alas, that was not how it went. The new pressure was too much for your body to handle, and as the floodgates opened wide, so did your tense muscles unwind to create a gruesome mix of relief and mortification. 

You had been holding in a lot more fluid than you thought, so when it finally slowed down to a trickle and eventually stopped there was a sizeable puddle underneath you. In addition to that humiliation, the prince's armor and long not-so-luscious-anymore hair had been stained, and now he was looking up at you with knowing eyes. Strangely enough, there wasn't as much anger or violent intent hidden behind that gaze as you had feared. It felt like he had locked you in a pseudo-staring contest just to let you know that he knew very well that you had just pissed yourself like a fucking toddler, and that he wouldn't let you off the hook so easily. Your fear-addled brain immediately started concocting horrible scenarios in which the prince would you rip apart limb for limb or gut you to let you slowly die in your own mess when you suddenly felt a big hand take hold of your now completely numb leg and drag you down into the puddle of your own waste that was starting to smell quite badly. The prince then lay himself down on you once again, letting his shoulder purposely dig painfully into your crotch as he stared up at you with those disturbingly glassy eyes.

Briefly, you wondered if he enjoyed this, having you squirm around in discomfort, itching and soaked in your own stinking fluids, or if he simply saw this as a reasonable punishment for your transgression. Either way, he was not letting you go anytime soon… or maybe ever.